West Cork Blog

Saintly Soup: Maura Laverty’s Feasting Galore

I have long been a fan of Maura Laverty. I was delighted to receive as a Christmas present from my brother a copy of a book by her called Feasting Galore: Recipes and Food Lore from the Emerald Isle. For more on Maura Laverty, and as background to this post, it might be a good idea to go back now and read my post Kind Cooking.

Feasting Galore appears to have been a book written (or rather compiled, as it seems to have borrowed stories and recipes from her other books) especially for the American market (Emerald Isle in the title is a clue). One of those books, of course, was Full and Plenty and there’s great news, by the way for Maura fans – Mercier Press, who owns the publishing rights to Full and Plenty and currently has an abridged version available, is going to re-issue it in full later this year.* I’ll be lining up!

The forward to Feasting Galore is by Robert Briscoe, the Lord Mayor of Dublin in the 1950s and early 60s (below, with JFK on his state visit in 1963). In his remarks he comes up with the following startling claim, Her knowledge of Irish traditional cooking makes her a leader in this field, and this knowledge she has gained from a detailed study of the lives of the early Irish Saints which are our chief source of information concerning the domestic ways of the ancient Irish. Having read something of Bob Briscoe as he was universally known in Dublin, I can see his tongue firmly in his cheek here and his audience in mind. And having read the book, I see Maura laughing her way through the whole project.

Now, as my readers know, I love a good saint. Briscoe’s reference was irresistible and sent me searching through the book for all the saintly references. I found lots of them! Before I get to the Saints though, I thought you might like a rundown on some of the traditional Irish recipes we don’t hear much about nowadays. After reading the list you might feel there are good reasons for that.

Let’s start with the vegetables. We begin with Brandon Parslied Potatoes, and move on to Slieve na mBan Carrots before reaching Cauliflower Souse. This is followed by Haggerty, Leekie Manglam, Nettle Briseach, Pease Pudding, Potato Collops, and Potato Scrapple. And of course Braised Cabbage and Colcannon make an appearance along with Dulce Champ.

I think you’d have to agree that of all of these Leekie Manglam is the one that needs to be investigated. So here is the story as given by Maura Laverty.

Leeks have always occupied a favoured place in Irish cooking – and with good reason. Their popularity dates back to the days of Saint Patrick. One day, so the story goes, a Chieftain who was being driven out of his mind by his pregnant wife’s demands for leeks (then out of season), employed the Saint’s help. Saint Patrick took a few juicy rushes, blessed them, and turned them into leeks which immediately cured the unfortunate woman’s “longing sickness“ and brought peace to her harassed husband. There and then Saint Patrick ordained that any woman suffering from the “longing sickness“ (modern doctors call it “pica“ or “morbid craving“) should be cured if she ate any member of the onion family.

So now you know! And here is the recipe.

Ingredients: One third recipe for Lardy cakes, three large leeks, four slices streaky bacon, half cup breadcrumbs, quarter cup milk, pepper and salt to taste, one egg.e

Method: parboil the leeks, drain, and cut them into very thin slices, add the diced bacon, mix in crumbs, milk, and seasoning. Divide the pastry in two. Use half to line a pie plate. Fill with the leek mixture. Brush edges with water. Cover with a lid of pastry. Press edges firmly together and flute. Brush with beaten egg and bake 30 minutes in a 425° oven.

As with other traditional Irish cookbooks (see this post about Monica Sheridan for example) every piece of an animal is used. There are recipes for Brawn, Cock of the North, Coddled Coneen, Griskins, Haslett, Pig’s Cheek, Trotters, and Tripe. There’s a bewildering variety of jams, jellies, scented jellies, marmalades and chutneys.

But what about the saints I hear you ask? Well, we’ve already had a taste of Saint Patrick so here’s one about Saint Columba and the recipe is for something called Brothchán Buidhe. Pronounced brohawn bwee, it means yellow broth, which is a savoury concoction of vegetable stock thickened with oatmeal and enriched with milk. It was, Laverty tells us, the favourite pottage of Saint Columba.

When Lent came around the Saint decided to mortify himself with ersatz broth, so he instructed his cook to put nothing into the broth pot except water and nettles, with a taste of salt on Sundays.

“Is nothing else to go into it, your reverence?” asked the cook in horror. “Nothing except what comes out of the potstick,” the Saint replied sternly.

This went on for two weeks. The Saint grew thinner and weaker, and the cook grew more and more worried. And then, all of a sudden, Saint Columbus started to put on weight again and the worried look left the cook’s face. The devoted lay brother had made himself a hollow potstick down which he poured milk and oatmeal. Thus he was able to preserve his master from starvation and himself from the horrible sins of disobedience and lies.

When questioned by the Saint he was able to assure him honestly that nothing went into the broth save what came out of the pot stick.

I will save you from the recipe because it looks very unappetising indeed and I can’t imagine anyone would want to make it for any reason.

The next Saint we encounter is Saint Keevóg, and he comes at the end of a version of the Children of Lir. For the complete and very sad story of the four children who were turned into swans by their wicked stepmother, you can read Robert‘s post here. Here’s Maura’s ending:

At long last the day came when they heard the mass bell of Saint Keevog. The four swans winged their way to the Saint’s little church where they were baptised. It is said that immediately after their baptism, their feathers fell from them and they reverted to human form, but incredibly aged and wrinkled.… And this story of the children of Lir explains why Swan, which was considered royal food elsewhere, is never mentioned in accounts of ancient Irish banquets. Until this day to kill a swan is an unforgivable sin in Ireland.

From poetry to pike is not such a long step, particularly when the pike is from Lake Derravara and is made into a poem of a dish in this way. 

This is followed for a recipe for Pike Derravara – a bit of a stretch perhaps. Keevog is St Mochaemóg, the founder of Liathmore monastery about which we wrote here. In Robert’s version he is called Saint Kemoc, a hermit who found them, four ancient, withered people.

Did the cookie, Maura Laverty asks us, come from Ireland? Here is her answer.

The first written mention of cookies occurs in the ancient Book of Lismore.

It seems that when Saint Patrick came to Ireland he found that Ogham – the only form of writing then known here – was the closely guarded secret of the Druids. Patrick in his wisdom realised that education was a necessary preliminary to conversion from paganism, and he introduced the Roman alphabet to the people to whom he was bringing the gifts of enlightenment and salvation.

In the book of Lismore we are told that the child who grew up to be Saint Columcille found difficulty in learning the alphabet. To encourage him his mother baked A-B-C cookies with which he was rewarded as he mastered letter after letter.

It is very probable that this sweet way of coaxing children to learn became common throughout Ireland. And I think it quite likely that it was introduced to America by Saint Brendan the Navigator who discovered the New World long before Columbus set foot there.

And so it goes on, over-the-top names and recipes designed to, er, feed every leprechaun-and-shamrock preconceived notion that Americans might have of the Irish. There’s a chapter on Fast-Day Feasts, and recipes for Convent Loaf and Nun’s Cake. I can only imagine the fun she had writing it. The illustrations, by Bill O’Gorman (I’ve found nothing about him – anyone?) also add to the chuckles – it’s hard to imagine a more stereotyped set of cartoons.

Each chapter is preceded by a story, mostly around the theme of food being the way to a man’s heart, and that age, girth or criminal records were no impediments to true love. I leave you with the one with which she introduces the vegetable chapter. 

Now, seeing as it’s the season that’s in it, I’m off to cook up some St Brigid’s broth.

*Many thanks to Mercier Press – although they do not claim rights for Feasting Galore, I appreciate that stories and recipes in it have been taken from Full and Plenty. Feasting Galore was issued by Hippocrene Books, but is no longer in their catalogue.

The Anglo-Normans in West Cork: Hiding in Plain Sight, Part 2

Last week we set out to figure why the Anglo-Normans are curiously absent from the archaeology of West Cork. I told you about our exploration of Castleventry, and how Con Manning immediately suspected this was not your average ringfort, and of course, eventually proclaimed it to be an Anglo-Norman ringwork. I am leading again with an AI-generated image – I am having fun playing around with DALL·E but am under no illusions about its historical accuracy!

Our next site was courtesy of David Myler, author of the new Walking with Stones. He took us to see an intriguing site at Dunnamark, just outside Bantry. In his book, David also highlights the local convention that this is a Dane’s Fort – a common designation for all kinds of constructions around Ireland.

This was another of the sites identified by Dermot Twohig as an Anglo-Norman ringwork. In fact, Dermot said Dunamark is one of the best examples of a ring-work I have seen in either Britain or Ireland. Con concurred. In his book, David also highlights the local convention that this is a Dane’s Fort – a common designation for all kinds of constructions around Ireland.

This is another massive fortification, with very deep ditches and a high ‘platform’ as the interior of the fort.

In the National Monuments record it is labelled a ‘cliff-edge fort and is described thus:

Description: In tillage, on cliff edge, on E shore Bantry Bay. Roughly D-shaped area enclosed by earthen bank S->NNE, with external fosse; slightly convex cliff edge NNE->S. Possible souterrain (CO118-004002-) in interior.

In his article in Archaeology Ireland, Con points out that 

Dunnamark was a particularly important castle, having been one of two demesne manors of the Carews in West Cork, and the caput of the cantred of of Foniertheragh.

He also says that a low-level bit of a masonry set into the central mound and parallel with the entrance causeway might be part of the counter balance slots of a drawbridge. Here’s what Con was looking at – it takes a medieval archaeology specialist to recognise such an unpromising set of stones.

Another interesting feature of this site is the narrow channel riught beside the bank, which would have allowed small boats to come right up to the fort.

Our third site may be familiar with regular readers – it’s the site I described as the original Dunmanus Castle in my post Dunmanus Castle – the Cliff-Edge Fort. Go back and read that now and then come back here.

You will see that I was puzzled by it when I saw it and I was really pleased when Con confirmed on a subsequent visit that this could indeed be another Anglo-Norman ringwork. 

Interestingly, since I wrote that post I wrote about the Bath Map of Cork, which shows an actual castle – as complete as Dunmanus Castle, on the site!

Our final site is at Caheragh, and this one is bit more speculative. A high knoll towers above the ruined church and its surrounding graveyard and on top of that hill is what has been labelled a ringfort. However, once again, it doesn’t quite feel right as a ringfort.

It has panoramic views across the surrounding countryside and sits on the middle of a medieval landscape that includes many ringforts, and an area known as Bishopsland, and the winding Ilen river. 

The fort on top has obvious remains of buildings, one of which may be what is left of a small tower.

The knoll, although natural, looks like a motte – why build one if you don’t have to? From the top you can see all the way over to Caheragh village.

For me, the defining characteristics of these ringworks so far has been very much in accordance with what Grace Dennis-Toone laid out in her thesis – strong fortifications, situated strategically either with panoramic views or maritime location. But we know ringforts that are like that too. The extra factor for me is that they also seem like truncated mottes – raised platforms that fall short of the height needed for a motte, but still enough to dominate the landscape. Castleventry and Caheragh take advantage of natural elevations, while Knockeens and Dunnamark have constructed raised platforms within deep ditches. It may also have been that Knockeens was originally circular rather than D-shaped – see how much erosion has taken place there (below).

So – readers, do you have any other examples you suspect might fit the bill for an Anglo-Norman ringwork? It would help if it has some documentary evidence so get busy researching medieval manuscripts. No bother to you! I have already heard from one knowledgeable local, and hope to have another field soon trip in his area. We know they were here – between us, maybe we can re-write the text books for West Cork.

The Anglo-Normans in West Cork: Hiding in Plain Sight, Part 1

Here’s a nutshell of what I have always known about the Anglo-Normans in West Cork (cheesy and improbable image above courtesy of ChatGPT – DALL·E). After they landed in Ireland in 1169, it took them about 50 years to get to West Cork. Once here, they established some castles or fortifications and intermarried with the local families. This state of affairs lasted until 1261, when a combined army of Irish, led by Fineen McCarthy, defeated them at the Battle of Callan driving them out of West Cork and destroying all their castles. For more on the Battle of Callan, see the post Sliding into Kerry, from 2017, by Robert.

So is that why there is no trace to be found of the Anglo-Norman establishments in West Cork? In the rest of the country, at this early stage, they were mostly building motte and baileys, but there isn’t a single motte and bailey anywhere near West Cork – see the distribution map below, courtesy of National Monuments. And the masonry castles (or tower houses) we have were all built by the great Irish families. For a while I thought maybe Baltimore Castle was an Anglo-Norman building, but Eamonn Cotter has brought me up to speed on the excavation results and shown me it was much later.

There is quite a bit of documentary evidence of their presence, though, including references to their ‘castles’ so it has always been a surprise that west Cork is not littered with mottes or ruined towers. Even given the tradition that they were all destroyed after the Battle of Callan, it is impossible to imagine that a motte could be obliterated from the landscape. They were substantial earthworks, as can be seen from the brilliant JG O’Donoghue‘s reconstruction drawing below.

It turns out we have been looking but not seeing – with some exceptions, archaeologists have not recognised Anglo-Norman structures when they saw them. The most notable exception was Dermot Twohig (a contemporary of mine at UCC in the early 70s) who, as early as 1978 described Norman ringworks in Cork. In the Bulletin of the Group for Irish Historical Settlement for 1978, buried within an annual conference report, Twohig reports:

Although I have not succeeded in inspecting, on the ground, all of the early Norman castles in Co. Cork, three of the sites I have examined – Dunamark (Dun na mBarc), Castleventry (Caislen na Gide) and Castlemore Barrett (Mourne/Ballynamona), can be classified as ring-work castles. Dunamark is one of the best examples of a ring-work I have seen in either Britain or Ireland. Castlemore Barrett had a hall-keep built within the ring-work c.1250, to which a tower-house was added in the fifteenth-century. Castleventry may have had a stone built gate-tower similar to the one at Castletobin, Co. Kilkenny. . . Further field-work and excavation will, I believe, demonstrate that the ring-work castles constituted a very significant element of fortification in the Norman conquest of Ireland.

I don’t know what happened, but Dermot’s analysis does not appear to have become part of what students were taught at UCC. Those students in turn became the mainstay of the Archaeological survey of the 1980s and they labelled Dunnamark (i’m using the OS spelling) a cliff-edge fort and Castleventry a ringfort. 

In fact, the very term ringwork (or ring-work, or ringwork castle) seems to have become an archaeological football, with some scholars asserting that we have no useful definition of its distinctive features and most of them are probably just ringforts, while others have championed the use of the term and tried to bring clarity to the debate.* in the heel of the hunt, it now seems likely that ringworks were indeed part of the system of land-claiming exercised by the Anglo-Normans, that they were usually larger and more solidly built than ringforts, and located strategically – near water or with commanding views. As you can see from the photograph below, the Castleventry banks are high, and were originally stone-faced.

In the course of 2023 and early 2024 Robert and I visited four locations with Con Manning, retired archaeologist with the National Monument Service and a recognised authority on Irish medieval archaeology. Con has now written about the four sites in the latest issue of Archaeology Ireland, naming them as Angle-Norman ringworks. The first is Castleventry, to which we were brought by local historians Dan O’Leary and Sean O’Donovan, and I wrote about our visit to that that one here. So go back now and read what we found there and how intrigued Con was by what he saw. This was the site that set him off on his investigations. 

The description of this site in the National Monuments record is as follows:

In pasture, atop knoll on E-facing slope. Circular, slightly raised area (32.6m N-S; 34.5m E-W) enclosed by two earthen banks, stone faced in parts, with intervening fosse. Break in inner bank to W, now blocked up; modern steps to E. Outer bank broken to W (Wth 3.5m), blocked up; S gap leads to laneway; modern break to NNW. Church (CO134-025004-), graveyard (CO134-025003-) and souterrain (CO134-025002-) in interior; second souterrain (CO134-089—) beside outer bank to E.

Recognising that not all readers have access to Archaeology Ireland, and with Con’s permission, I will tell you that he notes that after the Battle of Callan 

in that same year many of the castles of the colonists for burnt or destroyed. Two were mentioned in a single entry in the Annals of Inisfallen as follows: “the castle of Dún na mBarc, and Caislén na Gide also, were burned by Mac Carthaig and by the Desmumu.”. Caislén na Gide has been identified as Caisleán na Gaoithe or Castleventry. . . No likely site for this clearly important castle has to date been identified on the ground. 

After more information on the history of the site and its association with the Barrett and the Barry families, Con concludes, I have no doubt but that this monument is the castle of Castleventry, a substantial and impressive ringwork reusing an older ringfort.

Next week I will write about the other three sites (spoiler alert – one of them will be familiar to regular readers already) and come to conclusions about the evidence we’ve been missing for the presence of the Anglo-Normans in West Cork.

* I applaud particularly the work of Grace Dennis-Toone, Her thesis brings considerable rigour and analysis to the topic. When is a ringwork a ringwork? Identifying the ringwork castles of County Wexford with a view to reconsidering Irish ringwork classification.

Happy 2025!

This is a section of George Walsh’s spectacular Sun and Stars window in the Black Abbey, in Kilkenny. I hope it makes you as happy as it does me. Let’s all try to make a difference for good in 2025.

Christmas 2024

I wish all our readers and and followers the very best of the season. This has been a difficult year and as it draws to a close I feel gratitude for having been able to travel this road with Robert for the last twelve years, and gratitude that I am able to continue the Journal on my own, with his spirit always with me.

Above all, I am grateful for the many messages of sympathy and encouragement from all of you lovely readers. Thank you – onward and upward!

‘Harry Clarke’ Nativities – NOT by Harry Clarke

It’s become a bit of a tradition with us here at Roaringwater Journal to do a post like this in the lead up to Christmas. See this post, and this one, or maybe this one. All busy stained glass studios were requested to supply Nativity windows – a favourite of Catholic Churches throughout Ireland. Harry himself made several Nativities, but this post deals with windows made in his style, but not by him. All of them were made in his father’s business, Joshua Clarke and Sons, or in The Harry Clarke Studios, as it was renamed in 1930. Sometimes windows are just signed Clarke, or Clarke and Sons. If you’re looking at these images and saying to yourself, Surely these are Harry Clarkes! I recommend reading some of my previous posts for the difference between a Harry Clarke and a Harry Clarke Studio window. Perhaps begin with The House Style: William Dowling and the Harry Clarke Studios.

These first two images are from a remote church in Wicklow, in the townland of Killamoat, near Rathdangan. They were done in the Harry Clarke Studios, after Harry died in 1931, and are attributed to George Stephen Walsh, who had started as an apprentice with Harry several years before he died. I particularly love all the details surrounding the Baby Jesus – the blankets upon which he lies and that strange green urn.

This is from a series of small windows in Leixlip – I made a slide show of those windows, which you can watch here, in a post titled Clarke-Style Windows. They were made in 1925, in the Joshua Clarke Studios, in which Harry served his own apprenticeship and which retained its name until it became the Harry Clarke Studios in 1930, shortly before Harry died. In 1925 Harry was an established artist and had taken on several apprentices to help out in the busy studio – one of them made these windows and we don’t know which, although it could have been Philip Deegan. Deegan had taken Harry’s courses at the Dublin Metropolitan School of Art, and was accomplished at reproducing his style.

William Dowling* was one of Harry’s most accomplished artists and the one who stayed on in the studio the longest, up to the 1970s. In the years after Harry died he and Richard King produced beautiful windows in the Clarke tradition, using very good glass and carrying on the ‘house style’ of dense, jewel-like surfaces, packed with ornamental detail. Above is one of his windows from Knockainey, Co Limerick, dating from 1940 .

This is the angel from that window – I was struck by the fiery aureole that burns behind his head, instead of the usual halo.

This one is also by Dowling, but from somewhat later, in 1948, and it’s in the Catholic Church in Bandon. You can see how Dowling’s style has evolved – it’s not quite as dense. The composition is still beautiful and local lore has it that many of the young relatives of the priest who commissioned the window are immortalised in some of the faces. Can anyone in Bandon tell us more?

Another from the Studios after Harry Died – this one is in the Catholic Church in Wicklow town and we don’t know to whom it should be attributed.

I picked out two of the shepherds to highlight as they had such interesting faces. I also loved the fact that the lamb appears to have a little triangular lacy cap.

This window is from Millstreet, Co Cork and is another of Dowling’s wonderful productions, dating from 1940. Below is the predella (lowermost panel) from this window.

I suppose we’d have to say that overall there is a bit of a sameness to these Nativity windows and that’s down to the overarching influence of Harry’s very particular style. Eventually, this style fell out of fashion – a victim of its own success, or a failure to change with the times. While it lasted, though, it was superb. Eventually, due to falling demand and the price of good glass, the windows coming from the Harry Clarke Studios failed to keep up the high standards established by him and kept up by Dowling and King as long as they could. Here’s an example from around 1950 so you can see what I mean.

* For more on William Dowling, see Paul Donnelly’s excellent essay Legacy and Identity: Harry Clarke, William Dowling and the Harry Clarke Studios (in Harry Clarke and Artistic Visions of the New Irish State). Paul’s research has greatly informed all my work on William Dowling and other aspects of the Harry Clarke Studios.